


Choose your Valentine

by Grain_Crain



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 06:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17657642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grain_Crain/pseuds/Grain_Crain
Summary: Clash got her heart broken, but fear not! She has a possible date awaiting for her - it all depends on where she will go and who she will meet ;)





	1. Where to go?

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of like a 'choose your own storyline' fic, except you can choose which ship to read. I will have one choice out to fulfill the promised date of [Siege The Valentines 2019](https://dualrainbow.tumblr.com/post/182389423633/siege-the-valentines-hello-everyone-with-the). The other two ships will be published on the same day in near future so you can really choose the ship that you fancy :)
> 
> Thank you [kiki](http://r6shippingdelivery.tumblr.com/) and [ee-vvaa](http://ee-vvaa.tumblr.com/) for the proofreads and encouragement :D

They promised to visit a field covered in snow. Yes, one of those magical sceneries where everything would appear seamless, smooth and immaculate after a heavy blizzard. It was perfect for leaving matching sets of footprints and lie down to form shapes that fit the two of them. Same as fresh chocolate fudge that’s handmade rather than bought. It would be a delightful moment to ruin such delicate purity by sinking teeth into it. Knowing her partner prefers a ‘beautiful’ cut like one of those cafe displays, she made an effort to be less of a butcher. Aesthetic finesse was an area of mystery to Morowa, but she tried to understand her lover’s preference. It was the least she could do while being deployed halfway across the map, constantly away on a mission and missing out on anniversaries, Christmas, and holiday seasons. No matter how much effort she put in, this rare date would be nowhere near on the level of a proper compensation for all the lost time. Morowa hated making her partner wait in loneliness, and at times she wanted to dismiss the guilt by thinking that she missed them just as much.

Well, no matter. She applied for a short holiday leave after proving her worth in Rainbow, and she would use that time wisely by making her partner happy. Perhaps she was exerting a little too much, but her heart wouldn’t be at ease until she delivered the best experience for the both of them. With chest full of flutter, Morowa made a call through a chatting app and waited for a response. First call went through without being picked up. Figuring that they were busy, Morowa decided to call them later and started to clean up the kitchen. She called them, and no response again. Irrational anxiety made her call five more times until she decided to stop before looking too obsessive. Had something happened? Morowa clicked her tongue and walked around her dorm to find something else to do before her mind let loose. An hour passed by and she finally got a notification on her phone. She expected more than a disappointing ‘hey.’ When she called for a voice chat, the other side of the line hung up. Morowa sent more messages to find answers for this odd behaviour and soon received a wall of texts, consisting a theme of sadness, anger, self-pity and most of all, ‘this isn’t working.’ _Oh shit._

There was a rush of chill through her bloodstream. An unpleasant shiver, just like the one that she felt when a bullet struck her tactical vest; a deeply engraved fear and despair. Morowa made another call and busily thought of what to say.

“Hey.” They picked up with a shaky voice.

“Darling, what’s going on?” Morowa nearly swore at her own impatience, and yet she wanted a clarification.

“I can’t do this,” They sobbed, “I just, we can’t be like this. You are never here when I need you and even when you are here, you are just too occupied and high-strung.”

“I didn’t know you were hurting this much. Why didn’t you tell me all this when we met up last time? Or when we chatted over the phone?” Suppressing her temper, Morowa clung onto the belief of setting this right. She wanted to dissolve all the misunderstanding even if it was too late.

“Last time was six months ago! How many couples out there meet up three or four times a year? How is that normal?” Every word cut deep, making fresh wounds on Morowa who thought she had thick skin, “I’m sorry, but I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

“Poppet, please,” Morowa rubbed on her dry lips, “We can start this over. Give me a chance to do you right. We can meet up whenever you like.”

“No.” The voice that lay final verdict wasn’t crying anymore. Despite the harsh response, Morowa refused to give up. She rambled on and on and let desperation run through her mouth, then she realised she had been talking to no one for two minutes straight. Her partner of two years hung up on her as if none of this mattered. _Was she broken up through a phone call? A fucking phone call?_ Her vision went blurry from uncontrollable tears that would never fill up the empty hole that her recent ex-partner punctured. She was tempted to deny her fault. Excuses and rationalisation kicked in, telling her that all she ever did was to work hard and even harder to prove a point to those ignorant cunts in the police force. Morowa couldn’t blame the damn job that she chose, the career change that made her rethink life choices. She did her absolute best, but at what cost? When did she let ambition cause harm in her personal life? Why did her cause had to be an ambition when it started out as a simple desire for the basic human rights? Justice? To what extent did she let herself be consumed?

_Crack_

A sharp pang of pain jolted her out of the thought train. She stared down at a cracked phone screen, such fragile item that broke under her fury induced iron grip. Deeming this whole situation as pathetic and miserable, she attempted to sleep on them. Allow the melancholy to settle in, in hopes to let bygones be bygone.

It has been more than two weeks since the break up. Has she got over it? Of course not. Fuck all she cares if a crowd split in half whenever she walks by with a look of murder. No one should know that Morowa hasn’t been sleeping much, because her brain nagged her to exaggerate faults in her past love rather than reevaluate her own. Negativity piles on and on, no matter the amount she exerts to vent out during the defending phase. Tonight she finally admits her petty anger against the ex. It’s such an alarming mindset to have, a hateful pit of hell that she used to feel while being part of a rioting mob. A better way to spend this restless evenings would be to find a distraction of some sort, so she wanders around and contemplates on whether to visit the [workshop](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17657642/chapters/41642267), SAS dorm or the gym.


	2. The Workshop (Clash/Twitch)

Her poor phone did nothing to deserve such treatment. Although Morowa may not be knowledgeable in electronics, she made use of her crafty hands to tend for the CCE Shield. She could’ve trashed it and buy a new one, but that sounds wasteful for someone who has been living as a dedicated penny pincher. There’s nothing wrong with the phone other than the screen, so a simple fix in the workshop shall do. Despite her hopes to see nobody there, she sighs to find someone working in their own bench.

“Hello! I didn’t expect to see you so late.” Emmanuelle flashes a polite smile, which is a bit of relief for Morowa. A friendlier face is better than just anybody else.

“I do come by. Hope you don’t mind the company.” Morowa waves back and moves to a nearby empty bench.

“Do you need help?”

“It’s fine. I can manage," Her plan is to replace the screen with spare glass and plastic sheets without touching the thin film of transparent conductor material. Cutting the glass and plastic isn't a challenge at all, and everything seemed to be going smoothly until she hears a faint snap under her fingertip. The newly cut glass breaks, which is understandable for it being a brittle material. No biggie; hard to fail this time. She tries again and lets loose of tension in her arms. Glass, check. Plastic sheet, check. Morowa pries the top and bottom of the phone open to remove all the old and broken shards, and guess what happens? Even though she thought her hands were steady, the top part bounces off, causing all the shards to fling upward and scatter all over her, "Fucking piss stain-" She lets out instant streams of curse words and mumbles about all the mess that she has made.

“Morowa?” Great. Someone is here to witness the grandeur of her failure, “Are you okay?”

“Yes! I'm alright.” Morowa trudges away to find a mirror and bears through little prickles.

“ _Merde_ , what just happened to you?” Emmanuelle gasps as she catches up to Morowa’s speed.

“Looking like a chipped disco ball, that’s what happened.” Morowa shuts her eyes to prevent them from rolling in sarcasm. She continues to move away but a light tug on shoulder stops her in motion.

“Stay still! Where do you think you are going?”

“To dust these off.” Morowa thinks that’s quite obvious without being asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Here, sit down and let me help you.” Emmanuelle drags a stool behind Morowa and guides the woman to have a seat.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’ll just take these off and-”

“Absolutely not!” Emmanuelle shakes her head in horror, “They will scrape against your skin. Do you want to have the world’s most uncomfortable shower after your skin’s scratched?” Watching the agitated shorter French reminds Morowa of a mother hen. Fluffy, full of energy and loud enough to make her point heard. As someone who is taller, Morowa could easily walk past and help herself out. That is, if she doesn't mind seeing Emmanuelle hurt or embarrassed. Denying help from a good colleague doesn't sit right with Morowa, and it would be down right rude of her to deepen the crease between those well-kept dark eyebrows.

“Alright, go ahead.” Morowa listens to a sound reasoning and put aside her stubborn pride. Emmanuelle says something along the lines of ‘damn right,’ which brings a small grin to Morowa, who finds this situation slightly amusing. Almost touching, given how Emmanuelle has volunteered to pluck off a fair amount of tiny pieces with utmost care and cautiousness. As Morowa stays still like a statue, her eyes wander around Emmanuelle and trace little features that she hadn’t noticed before. Lips with edges slightly curved upward give Emmanuelle an image of a confident young individual who trusts in their abilities and talents. Under the LED light, Morowa notices a shadow of thin lines around the sides of Emmanuelle’s mouth and wonders if that’s from frequent smiling. Quite different from her own, since Morowa does the exact opposite on a daily basis.

“Hold still.” Emmanuelle leans closer to retrieve smaller bits on Morowa’s chin, allowing them to observe each other up close. Those almond shaped eyes with green iris glimmered deep in concentration, similar to whenever she worked on electronics. The same enthusiasm was shown the day they introduced themselves for a discussion regarding her gadget.

“Remember that time when I first saw you?” Morowa recounts that fateful day, when Emmanuelle described the effect of the riot shield that shoot out beams of electricity. Morowa didn’t believe her, until she watched a quick demonstration of how that bloody shield zapped as if it had a tesla coil in it.

“How can I forget? You gave me the trademark 'Clash frown' until you saw the real deal.” There it is again; the same cocky grin that highlights those charming smile lines, just like that time when Emmanuelle showcased her patent pending high voltage Charged Field Generator (CFG.)

“Well, I had to make an excuse to use it again on Gilles,” It was a friendly accident and childish curiosity on Morowa’s part. They continue to banter on how their aforementioned friend jittered like a bobble head doll, who soon retaliated by borrowing Emmanuelle’s drone to tase Morowa in the butt, “I remember Álvarez lying on the floor, laughing.”

“You were chuckling as well! Just like right now.”

“I guess I am.” Morowa couldn't have realised unless she is told. She has hardly been in a mood to be giddy lately, so a smile plastered on her face feels somewhat forced as she tries to register if this is normal at all. It’s like one of those moments when whatever you do feels natural if you don't actively think about doing it.

“It's good to see you happy!” The pair of green eyes glint again, but this time in genuine relief, “You looked like the biggest storm cloud for days and I was worried about you.”

“Don't be. It's nothing big.” _She was worried about me?_ A sudden flush of warmth engulfs Morowa, making her wonder if it’s embarrassingly visible. People are usually intimidated by her and assume nothing will ever faze the infamous shieldmaiden. It may be a basic human decency, but having someone worrying about her gives Morowa tinge of heartfelt compassion. It's a nice distraction from feeling like an utter failure who shamefully blamed everything other than herself for not being able to maintain an intimate relationship. Unsure whether she is bashful or bemused at her own thoughts, she bends her neck back to hide her face; forgetting that she is still covered in tiny shrapnels. She flinches and hisses as one of the shards digs into her skin.

“I told you not to move!” Emmanuelle snaps and gently pulls Morowa's head back into the prior position where they were comfortably staring into each other. Neither of them break off the contact away, let it be gazing or touching, and for the longest time in a while Morowa is connected with someone without a word.

“I'm nearly done, so let me finish this for you.”

“Okay.” Morowa thinks she couldn't have responded any dumber while being completely mesmerised. Those few minutes become an eternity in disguise, but it is enough time for her to contemplate on anything coherent to say, “I can't thank you enough for helping me out. I owe you one, Em.”

“Don’t mention it,” Emmanuelle is quick to reply, but her fingers linger on the other’s cheek. The faint touch tickles Morowa in a sense that she thought she had forgotten, which dissipates when Emmanuelle removes the last piece away.

“Oh,” her disappointment is difficult to conceal, “Thanks, but I still think it's only right to do you a favour. Will you at least tell me what you would like for a meal?” That sounds nice and natural, a perfect excuse to see her again as a hangout or even a pretense date.

“Well, if you insist,” Emmanuelle pauses in hesitation, “Are you free on Valentine's day?”

“You bet I am,” Count her lucky stars. Morowa is internally jumping into bliss, but she better ensure before being mistaken, “Just us, or with the other girls as well?”

“I'd rather to have it private, if you don't mind. I would like to make that smile more of a common occurrence than a rarity.” Emmanuelle winks and that’s smoother than whatever Morowa will ever come up with. Since then, the days of sleepless nights turn into a reason to visit the workshop ever so often, where she works on fixing her phone with an unexpectedly adorable sweetheart. It appears the chocolate fudge won’t be a waste, after all. Maybe this time, Morowa will put her best effort to hold onto what's precious.

  
  



End file.
